Tag Archives: UK

I’m worn out today – so I decided to take the easy option and bang out a few slang words, for all you anglophiles to enjoy (and learn). At the very least, you’ll understand more of the British films and TV shows you love so much. They are in no special order, I’m afraid.

As you all know, I am England’s biggest expert on Americans and America. I am. So isn’t it strange that I’m virtually clueless about Canada? This, to me, would indicate that Canadians need to try harder with promoting their country. In order to demonstrate to them how much harder they need to try, I am going to list ten things I know about Canadians and Canada, off the top of my head. I won’t Google, I won’t cheat in any way… Let’s go:

1) Canadians sell chocolate at the airport. I know this because we stopped at a Canadian airport once (for an hour) on the way to America – and I bought some chocolate.

2) Canadians have guns. But unlike Americans they never shoot anyone.

3) Canadians never lock their doors. I think I’m getting these ideas from Michael Moore.

4) Canadians like Ice Hockey. So do I! But here in the UK, that makes me a freak.

6) It snows in Canada. But that’s OK, because Canadians are prepared for snow. I feel guilty because this list is making Canadians sound a bit boring. I’m sure they are just “differently interesting” really.

7) Canadians usually have a moose head on the wall. See? Not boring.

8) Canadians say “aboot”. But other than that they just sound like Americans with the volume turned down.

9) Canadians eat “poutine”. I have no idea what it is though. I’m not going to Google it, I’ve come this far without cheating. Most national dishes are famous for more than just the name! Why don’t I know what this is?

10) Canadians want to be British (yay!) or French (boo!). Basically they’re happy to be seen as anything other than American. Or Canadian.

And that’s just aboot all I know aboot Canada and Canadians. Oh wait, I know Mounties “always get their man”. Whatever.

CANADIANS: I’ve met some of you and I love you but MAKE YOUR DAMN MARK! Don’t let America leave you to play the part that New Zealand plays, to the mouthy Australians. Don’t be the same as Belgium is, compared to France. Let’s take the “O” out of “O Canada” and replace it with a “Hell YEAH!”.

So far, I have made two posts dedicated to teaching Americans the REAL meaning of words they don’t use properly. The response has been promising, although (like most people) Americans are a little stubborn about admitting when they are WRONG. Still, I shall continue to battle bravely on.

As some of you will have seen, I managed to explain what “Jumper” meant and what “Vest” meant, in a very straightforward manner. Great stuff. However, explaining the REAL meaning of the word “FANNY” is going to be a little more of a challenge. Americans will now be grinning at the prospect of me having to discuss something as embarrassing as a “rear end”… Believe me, my Yankee friends, you (as you would say) ain’t seen nuthin’ yet.

THIS IS NOT A FANNY

This first picture is of a BOTTOM. A bottom is not, and never has been, a FANNY. Right now, I suggest those of you who are of a delicate disposition, should brace yourselves. If you are standing up, sit down.

THIS IS A FANNY

I’m sorry about that… But it was necessary to post a second picture, in order to show you the REAL meaning of the word FANNY. As you can see (if you can bear to look again) FANNY is the word for a lady’s sex-parts.

I don’t know when (or IF) you will ever use the word “fanny” again – but if you do, you now know that you will be speaking of something a lot ruder than a BOTTOM. Normally I’d ask you to say the word “FANNY!” aloud (at this point) and stare at the second picture, in order to fix the proper meaning of FANNY in your mind… But I don’t think any of us want to dwell on this any longer than is absolutely necessary. And “fanny packs”? I’m not even going to go there.

We all know there are lots of words that Americans get wrong: They call crisps “chips” for instance, they call a lift an “elevator”… That’s all pretty well-known, Brits have got used to it and tried to make allowances for such mistakes. However, some words that Americans get wrong are more obscure and frankly just CONFUSING. As far as I’m concerned, Americans need to be re-educated about these words and taught to use them properly.

What if I wrote a blog entry about Brandon and said, “Bran was going out, so he put on his favourite jumper”? Americans would go “WTF?” and imagine my son wearing THIS:

THIS IS NOT A JUMPER.

They would, of course, be WRONG. Despite his admittedly camp demeanor, Brandon hasn’t been out in a DRESS yet. Not even a PINAFORE DRESS, like the one above.

So what would he be wearing then, if I said “jumper”? He would be wearing THIS:

THIS IS A JUMPER

Which is NOT a dress, it is a JUMPER.

Look at it, learn the name, FORGET the dress. Repeat after me “THIS IS A JUMPER”. Congratulations! You are now speaking English!

It was as a child that I first noticed the existence of Oreos. They were one of those seemingly exotic things they had in America but we didn’t have in the UK (along with fire hydrants, garbage disposal units, and teeth). As I grew up I saw Oreos mentioned over and over again, in cartoons, on Sesame Street, in films… Oreos were obviously huge in America but we couldn’t get them here and therefore we couldn’t try them. It was very frustrating, not least because Americans didn’t deserve to get exciting biscuits – for a start they called them “cookies”, which is just wrong.

Think how pleased I was then, in recent years, to find that Oreos were on sale here AT LAST! http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/magazine/7376123.stm . Oh happy day! I opened my first packet of Oreos with shaking hands and a thrill of anticipation – they looked SO nice. I tasted one… It was actually kind of vile. And by “kind of” I mean it WAS vile. But for some inexplicable reason I still wanted more. I was hooked.

Oreos (as if you didn’t know) taste like somebody has force-fed dark chocolate to a giant rabbit, collected the resulting poos, flattened them into disks and dried them to a brittle hardness. Then they’ve taken the disks, sandwiched them together in pairs, with sweet white creme, and sprinkled the entire batch with salt. I suppose that makes them sound a bit off-putting but they are actually strangely moreish. They most certainly qualify as things so vile that I like them.

Americans dip Oreos in milk, I hear. If you are American – I don’t know how long you’ve been doing that but you are making a huge mistake. Dip them in tea. Milky tea.